


Pinon, New Mexico

by FreezingAlyce



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Bottom Dean Winchester, Coming Out, Dean Winchester Has Internalized Homophobia, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23292523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreezingAlyce/pseuds/FreezingAlyce
Summary: Dean has a lot of John's second-hand judgments about the way people should be. He tries to keep up appearances, tries to be the man his dad wanted him to be. And still, there are these feelings that he just can't shake.Rated E for eventual quarantine-induced porn. What the hell, we've got time.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

The Sacramento River Lodge Motel is not in Sacramento. Dean pulled the Impala up to door seven and switched off the headlights. Timberton was about 22 miles east of their job, as the crow flies. But once they’d gotten into the New Mexico desert, Sam and Dean had realized that the windy forest road that connected it with Pinon was closed due to flash flooding. They’d had to take the long way around, adding on an extra forty miles and two hours to round out an exhausting, fruitless day.

  
Pinon, New Mexico was supposed to be a small border town but it consisted of little more than two Baptist churches and a weary looking post office. The few homes visible from the main road were covered in ‘keep out” signs. The locals were not into strangers and less amicable to the authorities. They’d caught wind of a job south of Pinon off the 506; border patrol and forest service rangers had found body parts strewn across the desert in areas so far off the beaten track that only local teenagers ventured out for bonfire parties. No one from the area had been reported missing, but the sheer number of disembodied limbs suggested that several someone’s were going to be missed.

  
\--

  
When Sam had read him the facts of the case, Dean had blown him off. “Dude, it’s probably coyotes smuggling in people from Mexico. Or drug cartels sending messages to the locals to keep quiet. This doesn’t sound like our kind of case.”

Sam kept reading, ignoring Dean’s editorializing. “Each of the body parts was found with occult symbols carved into them both anti- and post-mortem.” Sam looked up at Dean, challenging him as he continued, “The point of severance on each limb showed bite marks constant with omnivorous tooth markings. Dean, what types of creatures eat both meat and plans?”

“Damnit. People do.”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I guess we’re going to New Mexico.”

\--

They were about an hour past Amarillo when Sam’s phone rang. “Hey, Cas,” Dean nodded as his brother answered the phone. It reassured him when Cas called Sam-it meant that he was alive. “Yeah, no we’re headed there now. Yeah, I read that too, it just doesn’t make sense. Yep, no Dean already brought up the cartels. I don’t think that this is how they typically do business. Oh okay, yeah, we’d appreciate your help. Sweet, yeah, we’ll meet you there.” Dean could hear Cas’ affirmative response, little more than a murmur from across the seat. “Cas is in Durango finishing up a job. He’ll meet us there a few hours after we land.”

“What is that, like a 9-hour drive? With his lead foot, he’ll probably have dinner found by the time we make it into town.” Sam nodded and resumed his reading in the passenger seat. Dean hit eject on the cassette player, flipped the tape, and tapped his hands against the steering wheel along to Rush.

\--

As predicted, Cas made it to Pinon almost a full hour before Sam and Dean. Sam’s phone rang again just as they neared the exit off highway 82. “Sure Cas, thanks. We’ll see you soon.” He clicked his phone shut. “Apparently there isn’t shit in Pinon. Cas found a motel just east in Timberton. He says it’ll be easier to stay on the highway and turn south at the Cloudcroft exit.”

“Lovely, it seriously feels like walking into a mousetrap.”

\--

When they pulled into the River Lodge, Cas’ Continental was parked out front and he was leaning on the hood staring daggers into a newspaper folded haphazardly in his hands. “Hey Cas,” Dean nodded in his direction.

“Hello Dean,” Cas replied without looking up. His voice was strained.

“Some hello. What’s up?”

“I am not sure, Dean. This case is quite perplexing. I am not aware of any creature that participates in these sorts of gruesome rituals.” Cas’ face looked confused, his eyebrow twitching in frustration.

“Come on, Cas” Dean tapped on the paper, “you’re not going to solve this on an empty stomach.”

Cas put down his paper, hoisted his bag over his shoulder and followed Sam into the room marked “7.”

“What the crap, man?!” Dean whined. “How was there only one room available in a nowhere motel in the ass end of the desert?”

“At least it’s a double,” Sam encouraged. “Only two of us will have to share.” He smiled at Dean and winked.

“Very funny, Sam. Some of us need our beauty sleep.”

“Dean I do not think that sleep will improve your beauty.” Cas looked confused again.

“Not what I meant, but thanks…”


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ll ride with you,” Cas’ gravelly voice came from behind. Dean turned as Cas walked towards the Impala.

“Yeah alright” Sam relied for them as he slid in the passenger seat.

“Let’s get a move on then,” Dean was feeling a little more keyed up than he normally liked. Something about this town, or this job was giving him some bad juju vibes and he couldn’t quite place it. He felt more curt than normal, though it wasn't like they'd noticed.

Cas climbed into the backseat, sitting directly behind Dean. As he backed out of the space, Dean caught Cas’ eye in the rearview mirror for just a moment. When he looked back again, Cas was staring absentmindedly out the window.

\--

They drove down the road to the only diner in town. The open sign was lit, but through the windows, it looked all but abandoned. When they walked in, the doorbell chimed and the waitress walked out. “Hey fellas. Sit wherever and I’ll be right there.” Dean’s gaze followed her behind the counter. She was beautiful, early twenties, with long dark hair curled at the ends. Her uniform had ‘Nora’ stitched across her chest on the left side. She caught his eye and smiled at him. Dean smiled back and tilted his head. Maybe nowhere New Mexico wouldn’t be so bad.

“Earth to Dean,” Sam called over the dining room.

Dean snapped back to reality. Sam and Cas had taken up at a booth near the window and Sam had taken Dean’s absence as an opportunity to spread out his laptop and research. Dean slid into the booth next to Cas. “Hey scoot over. I’m not going to eat on the floor.”

“My apologies,” Cas was reading his newspaper again. “I had thought that you might be too preoccupied with the waitstaff to eat with us.” He glanced up as he said it, catching Dean’s eye.

Dean wiped the smirk of his face, feeling a sudden twinge of guilt. _What the hell,_ he thought. Dean was not one for feeling guilty about noticing hot women, especially when they noticed him back.

Cas shifted in his seat, brushing his thigh up against Dean’s thigh. Dean jumped a little and bumped his knee on the table. “Watch it,” Sam scolded him, reshuffling his stacks of papers.

“Coffee tonight, boys?” the waitress was a welcome distraction, coffeepot in one hand, three cups in the other.

“Please,” Cas reached for the cups and passed one to Sam, reaching half across Dean to do so. _What the actual hell,_ Dean thought.

They ordered their dinner and immediately, Cas and Sam were lost in conversation, discussing the merits of the case and bouncing theories off of one another. Dean sat nursing his coffee, deep in thought, staring into the oily black rings of his coffee. He felt restless and uneasy, like something was wrapped around his chest and wouldn't let his lungs fully expand. He’d felt it more and more over the last few months. He sipped on his coffee, expecting it to be grounding, but the bitterness of the coffee only served to worsen the pit in his stomach. He couldn’t seem to place it, but he knew something was wrong. _Anxious,_ he thought. _Sam calls it anxiety._ Why the hell would he be anxious? He didn’t get anxious? Hunters felt fear when they were in danger and chill when they weren't, there wasn’t time for pointless bullshit like anxiety.

Dean was pulled from his thoughts by Nora sliding plates across the table.

“Thank you, miss,” Cass said in his monotone “I’ve been interrupted” voice.

“Yeah thanks” Sam lifted his laptop out of the way just as she slid a plate in front of him. “The food here looks pretty decent,” Sam barely finished his sentence before he had the burger in his hands. Dean picked as his plate absentmindedly, “Yeah, looks pretty good.”

“Cas, hand me that salt shaker” Sam said laughing. Cas looked momentarily alarmed, reaching for it. “I think Dean’s possessed.”

“What do you mean? Why is this humorous?” Cas handed Sam the salt and looked intensely at Dean, waiting.

“I’m kidding, Cas, relax. Dean, you’re not eating. You _must_ be possessed.” Sam continued to laugh at his own joke.

“Very funny, Sammy,” Dean jeered, and took a bite of his burger. “Better?”

“It’s just that you aren’t normally picky.”

“I’m fine,” Dean ended the conversation and focused on eating. Sam took his cue to resume research talk with Cas, eyeing Dean intermittently over the table.

 _Dammit Sammy._ Sam always had a sixth sense for when something was awry with him.

\--

Sam and Cas continued their research chatter all the way back to the motel. Sam sat turned half around in the front seat, showing Cas runes in an old read leather-bound book. Dean wondered absentmindedly when he’d checked out of the conversation, he wasn’t really sure how they’d gotten on this specific topic.

Dean pulled the car back into number seven’s space and killed the engine. He stretched in his seat and let out a dramatized yawn for full effect. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat. Let’s call it.”

“Dean it’s only 6:00pm,” Sam stared at him in disbelief. “I was planning on doing more archival research up at that Catholic Rectory we passed up the road. They shouldn’t be closing until at least 10:00pm.”

“Whatever, but I drove all day and I’m calling it. I’m ready for a hot shower and an hour of Food Network,” Dean yawned again to drive home his point and passed Sam the keys. “Just don’t wake me up at midnight, Cinderella.”

Dean got out of the car and unlocked the door to their motel room. Cas opened the backdoor to follow him. “Perhaps I too will ‘call it’. I can finish reading the texts I brought and we can confer later.”

“Yeah alright,” Sam slid over behind the wheel and put the Impala in reverse. _Something’s wrong,_ he thought in passing. But then again, they’d never been good at communication so maybe not?

\--

Dean rifled through his bag on the far bed, digging out a bar of soap and his good sweatpants. He was getting too damn old to be living off single-serving motel bar soap, that shit dried him out. He’d started bringing the good stuff from the bunker. Sam gave him shit for having a beauty regime, but it was only fair since he’d spent the last seven years mocking him for all those damn hair potions.

Cas sat at the spindly table across the room, hunched over a stack of books and going back and forth between his notes. He barely looked up as Dean closed the door to the bathroom. 

Dean cranked on the shower and stood for a few minutes just enjoying the steam. He set his soap on the edge of the shower ledge and pulled a towel down from the rack. He set about undressing, shucking off his flannel and pulling his t-shirt over his head. He stared at himself in the mirror and scrubbed at his face with his hands. He’d let his stubble go a few days too long, but he was past the itchy stage so he might as well stick with it for the job. He rubbed at the back of his neck and rolled his stiff shoulders. The steam finished filling the tiny bathroom and fogged the mirror, obscuring it completely. Resigned, he flipped the switch for the fan and unbuttoned his jeans, letting his boxer briefs fall along with them. He stepped out of the fabric and into the too-hot shower. It felt good to wash off the day: diving to the ass-end of nowhere, the job they hadn’t been able to figure out, and the heavy feeling in his stomach he’d fought most of the day. Dean adjusted the shower head, letting the water wash over him. He reached for his soap bar and lathered his hair. While the water rinsed his hair, he set to washing his body. He could feel each of the healed cuts and raised scars that adorned him after years on the job. The hot water was good, it loosened the muscles in his neck. He rolled his shoulders again, feeling them move just a little more.

Somewhere in the shit little motel, someone must have run the sink, because the shower instantly turned from hot to boiling. Dean jumped back, hitting his head against the tile, and grasped desperately at the wall for support. Suddenly he wasn’t in New Mexico, he was still in hell, knife in hand, staring down the next soul in line. Just as quick, he was standing in a crappy little shower, panicking like a moron. He righted himself, turned off the shower and stepped out into the bathroom. He toweled himself off quickly and swiped a streak though the mirror. His eyes looked wild; pupils too wide. _Calm the fuck down, you idiot_ he scolded himself. As quick as he could manage, he finished drying and pulled on his sweats.

When Dean stepped out of the bathroom, Cas was laying on his bed, back propped against the headboard, watching Food Network with a devoted interest, hands folded neatly across his lap.

“Does this mean I drew the short straw?” Dean asked, looking over at Sam’s empty bed.

Cas glanced up from the TV. “Your brother kicks in his sleep. And snores.” Cas shook his head. “I have little patience for that type of behavior.” Dean chuckled; Cas had a point. Sammy was the size of a moose, took up most of the tiny double bed, and kicked like a Mortal Kombat character. As kids he’d gotten used to it, but now that he had the option to have his own bed, you could be damned sure he took the opportunity.

“Fair enough,” Dean sat on the opposite end and swung his legs onto the bed. “But are you actually going to sleep? Do you need to be in bed?”

“I might. I find that if I remember to, sleep can be rather relaxing.” Cas responded thoughtfully.

“That’s sort of the point of sleep, Cas.”

“Besides, as you said earlier, I might have the added result of becoming more attractive and I am interested to see how that will result.” Dean couldn’t tell if Cas was fucking with him or not and decided to let that one go. They laid there for to episodes, so far to either side of the bed that they were practically falling off. At the end of some show about midwestern taco trucks, Dean could feel his eyelids weighing heavy and moved to pull the covers over himself. He turned to face the door but found that laying on his bad shoulder wasn’t going to be an option. He rolled over, facing Cas to find him also prostrate, staring back. For as much as Cas started at him, this was too intense. “Good night, Dean.” Dean jumped a little, feeling a too-familiar pull in his chest as Cas stared at him. He stretched to cover it up, and rolled back over to hopefully get a little sleep. 

“Night, Cas.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean woke with a gasp. He could feel the blood dripping down his hands and face. He could hear the screaming and choking as the soul slowly drowned in its own blood and vomit. He went rigid, gasping for air that his lungs couldn’t remember how to breathe. _I’m okay. Not in hell. Not in hell,_ he reminded himself. Slowly, the motel room came into focus but he could still feel himself rigid, jaw so tight it hurt. Next to him, Dean felt the bed shift. There was an arm around his waist grounding him to earth. Cas held him tightly, steading him.

“You were dreaming, Dean. It was not real.” Cas’ gravelly voice was strangely soothing. Dean could feel himself coming back into his body, little by little. The feeling of the cold air on his face and the far-off sounds of the motel ice machine adding white noise to the otherwise silent motel room. Dean took a deep breath and found himself leaning into the arm holding him.

“I'm in hell,” Dean managed to verbalize. Then it struck him. He wasn’t in hell. He was in New Mexico. In a motel room. With Cas. And Sam. _Fuck, Sam_ Dean whipped his head around to the adjacent bed, still made up and void of his brother. He shifted to see the clock. _1:00am?_

“Dean, your brother is fine. He called while you slept to say that he was going to stay the night at the church. He has found a cache of local lore documentation that the priest has agreed to let him read, though he is not allowed to take them from the premises. The church put him up in one of the spare rooms. He plans to meet us as the diner for breakfast.”

Dean turned to look back at Cas, whose arm was still wrapped tightly around him. “Um, dude?” Dead looked down at Cas’ arm.

“When you have night terrors, I have found that placing my arm across your midsection helps to alleviate them.”

“Cas cuddling isn’t something that dudes normally do for one another…”

“Yes, I know this. But I did not see the harm as it has always helped in the past.” Dean was in disbelief. He remembered all of his nightmares. He was fairly sure they were more memory than dream, but still, Sam had never once mentioned that he thrashed or yelled in his sleep. Had he been all this time and not known?

“Whoa whoa, ‘in the past’?! How often have you done this?”

“I don’t keep track, Dean. Does it bother you?” Cas eyed him and Dean could see the slightest bit of weariness.

“I… No… I guess no. It’s just weird.”

Dean stared down at Cas’ arm then back up at Cas himself. “Go back to sleep, Dean. We have five hours until we have to rise for the day. You need more rest.” Clearly Cas had no intention of moving. Resigned, Dean laid back down, still in Cas’ grip. He did his best to relax his breathing but he still felt tense. That knot in his stomach seemed to untie a bit as he laid there. The smell of Cas was overwhelming, cedar and something musky. It made him feel lightheaded. At the same time, Dean felt Cas exhale and the arm around him tightened, pulling Dean in tighter. Dean stiffened in plan, and Cas, feeling Dean panic momentarily, moved his arm slightly and started rubbing small circles into Dean’s back.

They’d had a few moments in the past month. A brush of knees under the table. Catching Cas’ lingering gaze in the rearview mirror as they drove. Last week, Cas had walked up behind Dean in the library and had rested his hand on his back while leaning over his shoulder to read the book Dean was holding. Each time, Dean had felt that pit in his stomach and had panicked, moving out of reach or storming out of the room entirely. In the car, he’d cranked up the stereo so loud that even he had to admit later that it was too loud.

And every time, Dean could hear his dad’s voice in the back of his head. John Winchester had never outright said that he was homophobic, but expressed it in more subtle ways. He would make comments about men they saw being weak. He would make them leave a diner if they saw a gay couple holding hands. And the one-time John had come back early from a hunt to find a 13-year-old Dean cuddled on the sofa watching movies with his friend Allen, well he had immediately found a job for them across the country and they had been packed and on the road before sunrise. The whole trip, John had acted like Dean wasn’t even in the car. By the time they’d made it to North Carolina, Dean understood what John didn’t have to say out loud: They were men, they were hunters, and some things just weren’t acceptable.

It was no big surprise to Dean that his nightmares had gotten worse at the same time he'd been reliving old memories. Some of it felt the same. 

Every time he and Cas had gotten too close, these thoughts came rushing back. He’d tried to drown them out with whiskey, women, and work but there he’d be again, brushing shoulders with Cas in a hall or catching his eye from across the room and suddenly he was 13 again, and too afraid to cry that he’d left his almost-first boyfriend behind without getting to say goodbye.

Dean knew that things between him and Cas had always been a little wonky. They were as close as he and Sam, hell closer. Cas read him, could tell what he was thinking. It pissed him off when Cas fed his own feelings to him. But it was relieving to be able to have so much trust in someone. Dean certainly wasn’t used to that. Dean was never really sure if all those fleeting moments were just in his head. They loaded stares, stolen glances, awkward silences-it all felt like a game of chicken. But fuck if he was going to make the first move. For all he knew, it was all in his head and he'd be damned if he was going to fuck up his best friendship by misreading signs. But this... 

_Fuck it,_ Dean thought as he wiggled over closer to Cas and pressed his face into the crook of his shoulder. Cas held him tight and Dean forced himself to slow his breathing and unclench his arms. As soon as he did, he could feel himself drifting off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean woke up alone before first light. Glancing around the room, he could see light spill out from under the bathroom door. _Thank god._ Dean was about 75% sure that he’d hallucinated the whole cuddling scenario. Wouldn’t be the first time his wicked imagination got away from him. Hell, it could have been more fucking nightmares. Nothing like dreaming about being happy and safe to really scare the shit out of you.

He’d never been a good sleeper-too paranoid, too many nightmares to really ever relax. Unconsciousness was a weakness. He sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. He scrubbed at his face with his hands trying to get fully conscious. His shoulder felt better. He felt rested.

Dean wandered over the tiny single-serve coffee maker and manhandled it until he was holding a cup of lukewarm, bitter flavored water. _Whatever, caffeine is caffeine._ Grimacing, he downed the cup in two gulps. _Maybe not._

Cas interrupted his irritable thoughts, stepping out of the bathroom. Dean wasn’t ready for the excess of light in the room and winced. Taking a seat across the table, Cas pulled a notebook out of the pocket of his trench coat. “Have you gained sufficient consciousness to review some crime scene photos?” Dean grunted in response and managed to get the coffee pot to spit out another useless cup of caffeinated water.

Cas spread photos across the spindly table. “These are chronological, in terms of crime scene discovery. But I believe that they have them out of order. See here,” Cas pointed to a severed leg. “These runes describe early March, but these,” he pointed to the last photo in the array, “these have runes describing the winter solstice.”

“Cas that was four months ago.” Dean hazarded a glance up at Cas, who was staring firmly at him.

“Yes, Dean. I am aware.”

“So, you’re saying that they’re holding on to some of these people longer than others?” Dean looked back at the photos, more intensely than he’d done normally, grateful for a distraction.

“Yes, I believe so,” Cas said, shifting in his seat. Dean felt their knees bump and was instantly out of his seat, half across the room. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ Rifling through his pack for socks, he announced to the room in general, “I bet Sammy’s waiting on us for breakfast. Best get a move on.”

Cas sighed, “Yes, Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

Breakfast went by in a blur. Dean managed to translate the remaining runes and make some sense of them. He argued with Sam over the plan for the day. He listened as Cas recounted his theory about the timeline to Sam. He ate a chicken fried steak and eggs. He drank coffee that was marginally better than the last cup. And he internally kicked himself for being a fucking idiot.

Cas was his friend and he was reading stupid shit into all of this. Of course Cas had woken him up from a nightmare. Of course Cas would think it was normal to hold onto someone in that situation. Hell, Cas’ physical boundaries were pretty minimal on a normal, awake and walking around day, let alone sharing a bed. Dean worried that he’d overstepped, Cas had felt obligated to soothe him. He’d made a point of getting closer, falling asleep on Cas’ arm. _Shit, he probably didn’t know how to tell me to back off._ He’d woken up by himself, clearly Cas had gotten up as soon as he’d fallen asleep.

Fortunately, Cas hadn’t said anything about the night before. He was playing things business-as-usual. Dean was grateful for small miracles.

Sam flagged down their waitress and she sauntered over with the check. “You fellas have a nice day now,” she said to Cas, clearly ignoring Sam and Dean. Cas leaned across Dean to reach for the check, thanking her for the meal and passing her his credit card. Glancing at the card, “I’ll be right back with your receipt, Mr. Collison.”

“I think she likes you, Cas.” Sam smiled huge, nudging Cas on the shoulder from across the table.

“Perhaps it is the increase in my attractiveness that she is taken with.” Cas looked serious. “I checked the mirror this morning, and I do feel as if I noticed some positive benefits of sleep.” Sam continued to laugh as he gathered up his things.

When the waitress returned with Cas’ card, Cas leaned over Dean to receive it from her. _What the hell, man. PERSONAL SPACE,_ Dean thought. Just as he was about to say it out loud, Dean caught a smell that pulled the air out of his lungs.

“Did you use my soap?!” he said, louder than he intended.

“Yes, it smelled quite nice. I hope that was okay.” Cas tucked his card away in the interior pocket of his coat, ignoring the waitress making moon eyes at him, looking guilty at Dean instead.

Dean grumbled to himself about personal space and his stuff but was cursing internally that he had a full day ahead of them in the car with Cas smelling like him. _It’s going to be a long fucking day._


End file.
